


how it really ends

by neytirijade



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Comfort Sex, Episode: s06e14 Monday, F/M, more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10583010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytirijade/pseuds/neytirijade
Summary: Just a smutty little post-ep for Monday. Scully has a nightmare about what transpired that day at the bank...





	

“It doesn’t have to end like this,” she pleads, feeling the life seep out of the man in her arms, the man she has never allowed herself to love. Her unshed tears, laden with grief at the loss she may experience today—not only of her partner for the past six years, her life for so long—but of all the things they never said to each other.

Suddenly, she hears the doors open in the bank’s lobby, and she sees the SWAT team charging forward. _Oh, god, no._

“Yes, it does,” Bernard says, his hand poised on the switch of the homemade explosive bound over his torso. Scully screams.

#

“NO!!”

She wakes with a gasp. Feeling around, she notices the blood is gone from her hands. Mulder isn’t with her; she’s alone, in her pajamas, in bed.

_Where is he? Oh my god, is he dead?_

Scully wrenches the covers from her form and jumps from bed. No time to call him, she realizes, and puts on a pair of slippers before sliding on the long silk robe. She’s wearing only a tank top and small, boyshort panties—but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t have any time to get dressed; she has to make sure he’s alive. Now.

It takes her all of one minute to do these things and grab her keys, throwing herself out of her apartment complex and into the car. It’s a bit chilly out, but Scully doesn’t register the slight nip hitting her skin beneath her robe. She shoves her keys into the ignition, turns it over, and pulls out of the parking lot.

The drive is killing her. She was able to note the time, through her furious haze to get out the door. At this time of night, nobody was on the road, and she was easily able to weave through the intersections that led her to Arlington. But, 4 am or no, the stop lights were set no matter what.

When she pulls into his apartment complex, Scully thrusts the car so haphazardly into a space that it lies diagonally on the pavement. But she doesn’t care about this, either, and she snatches the keys from the ignition, shoves her door open and flies out of the seat, slamming the door shut on her way out.

She’s running now—even weaves past the elevator to take the stairs, two steps at a time. She gets to his door, her chest heaving in attempt to catch her breath, and pounds on the wood underneath the gold plated 42 nailed to the front. She only now realizes the stains of tears running down her cheeks.

It startles her when the door opens. Then, when she sees Mulder, she doesn’t think—she lurches herself at him, sobbing into his arms.

“Oh, god, Mulder,” she cries harder than she has in years, and she knows he’s never seen her like this.

“Scully,” he breathes into her hair. “Scully, what is it?”

He walks them both back into his apartment so he can shut the door. Scully doesn’t answer for a moment; just buries herself further into his arms, and Mulder holds her, stroking her back, the silk of her hair, until her cries fade into sighs, trying to catch her breath enough to speak.

Scully moves back, just a few inches, to gather her composure. “I’m—I’m sorry, Mulder, I…” But he shakes his head.

“Don’t apologize, Scully. I’ve been having them too.”

At this, she looks up at him. “What?”

Mulder takes her hand, guiding her over to the couch. When they sit, he clears his throat to speak.

“The nightmares. The… snippets, here and there, of what happened last week. At the bank.”

Scully’s face goes from confused to relieved. “I’m so sorry, Mulder. I just… I had to know you were okay. I had to know… that it was just a dream.”

“It was a dream, Scully,” he puts an arm around her. “It was just… they’re memories of what we went through before we were given the chance to change things. Before Pam finally got through to us.”

Suddenly, he takes stock of her outfit. “Scully, you must be freezing. Here, let me get you a blanket—“

“No,” she says. At his apprehension, she continues. “Just… can I stay here? Just for the night?”

“Of course, Scully. You go ahead and take the bed and I’ll—“

“I don’t want to be alone. I don’t—I don’t want to have that nightmare again, and wake up with you not there.”

He looks deep into her eyes, her resolve unwavering, and offers her his hand.

When they move into the bedroom, Mulder pulls the comforter and sheets back for her to lie down. He makes a point not to look while she quite literally disrobes—and he sees more of her pastel skin than he ever has before.

Scully drapes the robe over his headboard, and climbs into the bed. Mulder sits next to her, at the side of the bed, and pushes her hair back as she stares deep into his eyes.

“Is this real? Are… are you here, Mulder?”

Mulder strokes her face gently, his thumb grazing under her bottom lip. “This is real, Scully. I promise. I’m here.”

Her eyes seem to shine sapphire, even in the dim light. When she speaks again, a whisper now, her words send a rush of warmth through him. “Prove it.”

There’s a hint of challenge in Scully’s eyes, and Mulder suddenly feels that rush of warmth again—this time, coming from her. _Desire._

So he puts his other hand over the other side of her face, and he kisses her.

She moans, open-mouthed, into his kiss. Neither of them make the move to deepen it, not yet, and after several moments Scully pulls back a hairs breadth from his mouth.

Mulder looks for any sign of hesitation. He finds none. And when she pulls him closer, moving above him to straddle his thighs, this time—it’s him who moans into the kiss.

They sigh, simultaneous, as they taste each other for the first time. Mulder gently glides his hands over bare thighs, and Scully trembles in his arms.

Once more, she pulls away, but only to speak:

“Show me, Mulder. Make me yours, please.”

Her hands come up underneath his t-shirt, and he raises his arms to help her remove it. Their mouths meet once again, heated, as Scully slides her hands over the smooth muscles of his chest. Mulder grazes his own hands at the small strip of her waist, peeking from underneath her tank top. When his fingers graze the undersides of her breasts, she moans again, and he helps her remove the garment.

Scully rises to her feet, standing between his thighs, and kisses him. It doesn’t last but a few seconds before Mulder begins to make a hot, breathy path down her neck, nipping lightly at the skin between her neck and shoulder.

“God, Mulder…” she moans—the sound transforming into a gasp as his mouth closes over the peak of her left breast.

Her fingers slide beneath the waistband of his boxers, and he stands—she pushes them down, exposing his now painfully hard erection, and slides her fingers lightly over the pulsing skin.

But she only allows him the agonizing touch for a moment before stepping back from him. Scully looks deep into his eyes as she slides her boyshort panties from her hips, and kicks them to the side. She moves to him again, pushing him down onto the bed once more, and straddles his hips.

They kiss, the fire in their mouths burning brighter, hotter, as his arms wrap around her to hold her close.

But they both pull back as his hardened length slips along her wetness. Scully whimpers, and moves forward to place him at her entrance.

Resting her elbows on his shoulders, Scully slides her hands through his hair. Mulder’s own fingers glide sensually over her back as they stare, hard and hot breaths against each other’s skin, and Scully lowers herself onto him.

Their eyes stay locked until she’s fully sheathed his hardness. Mulder buries his head into her chest.

“God, Scully…”

But she only answers by rising until only the tip of his erection is inside of her slickness, then descends again—a deep, slow motion, rising and falling as smoothly as a tide.

“Mulder,” she breathes. “Oh, Mulder.”

Then, he’s taken her in his arms, and maneuvered her onto the bed below him. Still inside of her, he hooks his arms under her legs, and moves until their lips are inches away and he’s buried so deeply inside her that all they know is of their joining—all they feel are themselves, finally whole, and finally together.


End file.
